


o' we few, we happy few

by alchemystique



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 01:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5807167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemystique/pseuds/alchemystique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a family reunion brewing in the Organa-Solo household. Poe brings reinforcements for battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	o' we few, we happy few

**Author's Note:**

> an: I have spent the last month imagining what a modern family reunion would look like in the star wars verse. Have some orphan pilot Christmas garbage.

The house is nondescript, looming no larger than the houses on either side of it as snow falls in neat patterns along the street, and yet as they all peel themselves out of the car and gather their bags from the trunk, Poe can’t help but notice the tension of his companions.

Rey is all nervous energy beside him, her face awash in curiosity and distress in equal measure, and Finn can’t seem to keep his eyes from the brick walkway leading up to the front stoop, dancing on his toes with what Poe can only guess is terrified excitement.

“Into the breech?” he jokes, nudging at Rey’s arm, and she scowls at him, adorably adjusting the knit cap on her head, rolling her shoulders back like she’s preparing for battle. Which - okay - isn’t exactly the silliest comparison made about a family gathering such as this. Finn shoots them both indecipherable looks as he hefts two duffles higher. “Last chance to make a break for it.” 

Rey clenches her jaw, shoots him another loaded look, and takes off at a steady almost-jog towards the front door. Poe fails to keep the pleased look off his face, and receives a jab to the ribs as Finn all but hurtles past him to keep up. 

He follows after them at a leisurely stroll, completely unsurprised when he meets them both at the door looking hesitant. He clears his throat, waiting for one of them to make a move, an eventually Rey musters up enough courage to reach for the doorbell. “Oh, for gods sake -.”

He grasps the handle of the door, swings in past the welcome mat, and waits for them to follow him down the short hallway. Drama queens, the both of them. 

\------

Leia presses a warm kiss to Poe’s cheek as she stands on tiptoe to greet him, and then promptly smacks him upside the head as he tries to reach around her for one of the brownies stacked high on a plate on the kitchen island. He sends her a faux-pained look as he rubs at his ear, which she ignores in favor of sending a questioning glance at his companions. He takes a moment to let the sounds and smells of the house at peace settle comfortably into his memory - it won’t be this peaceful for long.

Technically, the Skywalker-Organa-Solo clan is not his own, but it’s the closest he’s got to one, anymore, and more importantly, he’s the only one who’s been here every year for the last decade. He’s practically an honorary son, at this point. He maybe should have mentioned he was bringing guests, though. Probably. If the look Leia is giving him is anything to go by.

“General,” he starts, and nearly (nearly) withers under the glare Leia shoots him at the joking endearment. “This is Finn. Finn, our esteemed host, Leia Organa.”

“Organa-Solo, actually,” she informs them, and Poe is certain for a moment that he almost keels over from the shock of the words.

“When did that happen?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“The last time I was here you told me you would hyphenate over your dead body. You described mass casualties, a lofty war, blown up buildings, a legacy of family issues large enough to destroy the universe. And now it’s Organa-Solo?”

All she does is roll her eyes, but Poe knows he’ll be getting a talking down later. Not in front of the guests, her eyes seem to say, and Poe swallows even as he smiles.

“And this is -.”

“I don’t need to be introduced to my own niece, Dameron. I’m old, not senile.”

“Well, it’s been a while.” They don’t mention the elephant in the room, the reason Rey and Leia haven’t seen each other in years - and they definitely don’t mention the other Skywalker who is probably still climbing mountains halfway across the world and comtemplating his beard amidst his rock collection.

He throws a glance across the room at Rey, arms crossed carefully over her body as she takes in the sight of the famous Leia Organa (Solo), shoulders hunched in, looking like she’s never been more uncomfortable in her life. It’s a stark change to the woman he’s used to seeing, always in her element, perpetually looking like she could murder you with nothing but her fists and a steady glare.

“Hello,” she finally says, and Leia is across the room in a beat, pulling her into a warm hug that seems to startle Rey into a sort of numb shock. 

Finn watches the exchange with that excited puppy dog expression that never seems to really leave his face, and Poe cuffs him across the ear, nodding toward the archway the leads into the hallway. He sneaks a few cookies still sitting on a tray beside the stove as he leads the way, grinning over his shoulder as he hands one off to Finn, and they leave the two women to their stilted and emotional reunion.

\------

Some time later - Poe tries not to keep track of the time - it’s the holiday, they are on leave, it is no longer his job to know exactly how many minutes Leia and Rey stay holed up in the kitchen having a tearful (oh god, was it tearful?) reunion (39.5 minutes, if he has calculated the walk from the kitchen to the sliding patio door correctly) - Rey pokes her head around the frame of the door, looking more at ease than he’s seen her since she slid into the passenger seat back at the academy. “Leia wants to speak with you, Poe.”

She smiles as she slides past him to join Finn out in the yard, her fingers ghosting across his wrist as she does, something like gratitude in those heavy eyes of hers in the moments before Finn sweeps her over his shoulder to deposit her - to loud protest - into a heaping pile of snow.

He slides the door closed behind him and takes off down the hallway again, steeling himself for the lecture he’s about to receive. He’s old enough by now not to tremble at the thought of a talking down from Leia Organa (Solo, and boy is that going to be difficult for him to say with a straight face), but there’s still a part of him that wishes he was back out in the snow with Rey and Finn.

Well. There are lots of parts of him that would prefer that, but that’s hardly the point.

Leia hands him a wooden spoon without speaking as he rounds the corner, pointing vaguely to a pot of something simmering on the stove. “I can explain.” It’s not the greatest beginning and she grunts as she turns her gaze on him.

“Shut up and stir, flyboy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

They stand in silence for longer than Poe finds particularly comfortable. He’s always been the type of person who likes to fill the room with noise, but there’s something specific in the set of Leia’s shoulders that tells him to keep his mouth shut. 

“We’ll have to blow up the extra mattress,” she finally says as she loads a frankly disgusting looking casserole into the oven. “One of you can stay in the office, and you’ll have to change the sheets in the spare room. I wasn’t aware I’d have so many guests.”

He bites his lip to keep from saying anything about how completely unnecessary that would be, something he’s fairly certain she knows (this is a test, and he’s more than happy to tell her the truth, but Rey and Finn had mixed that idea early), and instead shoots her an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean to spring them on you. Rey wasn’t going to come until this morning. And Finn doesn’t actually have anywhere to go.”

“One day you’ll be less of a bleeding heart,” she tells him, fondness and warning in equal measure, and he grins at her across the steam. 

“What, like you?”

She scoffs, turning back to chopping vegetables for a salad that could probably feed a good city block, but the next time she passes him she squeezes his arm and pats his head, and he feels all of five years old as the pride in her gaze threatens to sweep him into a blubbering mess. “The onions,” he explains when she shoots him a questioning glance, and he gestures to the pan on the stove. She is unconvinced, but he sees the corner of her mouth slide up just the tiniest bit. 

\------

He follows the sound of clattering metal and gruff cursing all the way to the garage, and grins at the scene he finds when he swings the door open to find Han yelling, Rey holding an important looking piece of machinery, and Finn attempting not to stare too hard at the nearly seven foot tall behemoth of a man wailing loudly in a language Poe is still pretty sure is mostly made up. 

“Chewie, shut your goddamn trap! And you! Unhand my baby right this second!” Rey’s eyes go wide and she sets down the mess of metal and wires in her hand. Chewie, on the other hand, continues to yell. “Hey, fuzzball, you’re not the one who almost lost his foot five seconds ago!”

“It’s good to see you two haven’t changed,” Poe says into a momentary silence once Han and Chewie have stopped screaming at each other.

The man startles from his crouch to squint at Poe, and Finn makes a motion like he means to flee in the opposite direction. Rey shoots them all defiant looks, which is pretty par for the course. He’ll have to ask them later how the hell they’d ended up here in the first place.

“Dameron. I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I am literally the only person you know who always comes for Christmas. You knew I was coming.”

“Well, I didn’t get you anything.”

“Every year. Every year you know I’m coming and every year you tell me that. And every year you’re lying.”

“Great.”

“Good.”

“Okay then.”

They stare at each other in contemplative silence. “This is Finn,” Poe finally tells the man, with a gesture over his shoulder. “Finn, this is Han, Leia’s formerly estranged husband.”

“Oh very nice. Great introduction. Swell.” 

“I said formerly.”

“I’ll sick Chewie on you. Don’t think I won’t.”

The man in question grumbles again, much more quietly this time. Poe’s understanding of Welsh is almost nonexistent, but he imagines whatever the man says includes at least a few choice curse words. Rey’s scandalized look confirms that theory.

“This the boyfriend, then?” He doesn’t really clarify the question, which Poe takes to mean he doesn’t really give a damn either way whose boyfriend Finn may or may not be, so he ignores the question entirely.

“I see you’re still attempting to turn this old rust bucket into your shiny new baby.” He kicks at a half-deflated tire, gesturing vaguely to the car that has seen better days, and Han shoots Poe a glare that might be scary if he wasn’t currently trying to ignore the flurry of words Chewie was still muttering.

“Watch your mouth. The Falcon is the best damn car in the galaxy.”

“Your delusions of grandeur haven’t changed, I see.”

“You’re a punk, kid.”

Poe grins. “Is that any way to talk to the man who finally got your niece to visit?”

Han scowls. He’d forgotten how much scowling was involved in Organa-Solo gatherings. He can only hope that the reconciliation of Leia and Han didn’t include their horrible son, who had seemingly learned nothing from his parents but the scowl. (Poe immediately feels awful for wishing such a thing, but really. Ben was terrible.)

“You should have told Leia you were bringing them. You’re gonna have to inflate the extra mattress. And change the sheets. I’m not doing it.”

Poe doesn’t bother to hold in his laughter. Jesus. They really were made for each other, weren’t they?

“Good to see you too, old man.”

“You watch who you’re calling old. Grown man, bringing a bunch of teenagers home to meet the family,” he grumbles.

He ignores everything but the ‘family’ part of Han’s tirade. It’s an old and tired argument he’s had with himself one too many times, and he waves off both Finn and Rey as they leap to his defense. He’s got a decade on them, he gets it. It probably won’t be the last time someone makes that comment this week.

Still, as they all pretend not to shiver in the cold, grinning at each other across the space of the garage, he can’t say he particularly minds.

\-----

“We were trying to find the bathroom,” Rey tells him as she settles into the desk chair in the office, her eyes on Finn as he sets the final suitcase on the floor near her feet. 

“And of course the moment you saw Han’s tin can you had to tinker.”

She has the grace to blush, just the tiniest smattering of pink sliding across her cheeks as he starts up the pump to blow up the godforsaken air mattress he’s never had the displeasure of sleeping on before. This would be so much easier if Rey and Finn weren’t hell bent on making a good impression. 

\------

Dinner that night is an interesting affair. They gather in the dining room, the snow falling softly outside the windows beside the large table, a quiet fire crackling in the room next door, the table laden with way too much food. It’s a surreal experience for Poe, who is far more used to sitting on the kitchen island while he regales Leia with mostly exaggerated tales of the feats of piloting he has achieved since he saw her last, eating off of paper plates while they try to ignore how empty the house feels. 

He’d come a day early just to hold on to that feeling, a bit, but there’s a nervous tension they’re all pretending isn’t there.

Tomorrow this house is going to be filled with people, with laughter and strangers and people Poe can barely remember, and more likely than not a little bit of yelling.

It’s been a good ten years since anything like that happened within these walls. 

Han and Leia don’t bother with formalities, sitting next to each other against the window, and Poe tries not to watch them too carefully, but he can’t help noticing the way Han’s hand keeps disappearing under the table to hover over Leia’s knee, the way Leia picks onions off Han’s plate without a second thought, tossing them carelessly over her own food; it’s like they’ve fallen into patterns so old they don’t even realize how long they’ve gone without. The urge to ask them about it is a hard one to ignore, but Poe keeps the questions to himself. It’s not likely either one of them would have any real answers for him other than ‘Mind your own damn business’.

Finn and Rey eat three plates each. He knows they’re no longer the starved waifs he’d met a year ago, and he’s more than a little pleased that they go straight for seconds without asking permission first, but sometimes he wonders if they’ll ever reach a point where they don’t think every meal is their last. 

Chewie, at least, can be relied upon to be just the same as always, speaking a mile a minute in a dizzying mixture of English and Welsh that only Han seems to understand, although the intent is fairly clear. He seems delighted to learn that Rey can understand him and even speak a bit of his home language, and they spend twenty minutes talking to each other over the table in wide hand gestures and heavy tongues. Poe gets only bits and pieces, but from what he gathers they’re having an argument about either potatoes or carburetors. 

Finn catches his eye across the table with a dazzling grin, and Poe smiles back as he reaches down to squeeze Finn’s knee.

The gesture does not go unnoticed by Leia or Han - Leia raises a curious eyebrow, and Han shoots him a smug look oozing with ‘I knew it’. Poe struggles not to stick his tongue out at either one of them, but his ears burn when moments later Finn drops his hand on top of Poe’s under the table.

\------

Leia and Han excuse themselves around eleven, long after the fire has burned to embers, but Chewie stays for a few rounds of cards, carrying on a conversation with Rey while Finn continues to have the absolute worst poker face known to man. 

It’s possibly one of Poe’s favorite things about Finn. The man couldn’t tell a lie if he tried. 

And he’s tried.

“Three sevens.”

Poe is currently holding on to two of those sevens, and he quirks a brow at Finn as the other man sweats, but Rey beats him to the punch. 

“Bullshit.” She’s not even looking at her cards, instead listening to Chewie narrate a story about his own days up in the cockpit, and Finn shoots her a look like she’s just kicked a puppy as he gathers up the stack of cards spread out between them. 

Chewie lays down two eights, Rey lays down one nine, and then darts her gaze up to Poe in muted awe when Chewie gestures at him. “Is that true? Leia was the senator who sponsored you?”

Poe shrugs. “She knew my mom.”

Rey seems displeased with his answer. “You didn’t tell me she was a senator. I didn’t know. Oh my god, all the stories we told her about the academy. She’s going to think I’m awful. She’s going to-.”

“Rey.” She blinks owlishly at him. “She’s your aunt. She also attended my graduation ceremony and never pulled a senior officer aside to tell them all about the things I got up to. This isn’t exactly a ‘by the book’ type of family.”

She nods carefully. “So if I told her about what we did to Hux’s room that one time, do you think she-.”

“We agreed never to tell anyone what we did to Hux’s room.”

Chewie runs a hand through his beard, brushes a lock of long brown hair over his shoulder, and raises a bushy eyebrow at them both. 

When neither of them budge, he shoots Finn his most endearing grin. Finn caves - not exactly immediately, but it can’t be more than three seconds. 

Cards forgotten, Finn leans forward on a wide grin. “Okay, so here’s the thing you need to know about Hux...”

\------

Chewie heads back across the street sometime after one, wishing them all a good night - he shares a significant look with Poe as he tells them he’ll see them all tomorrow in that thick accent of his, and Poe nods back, already wondering what the day will bring.

He’s barely even shut the lights off when the door creaks open. His eyes still not adjusted to the darkness, he squints for a moment before a Finn-shaped shadow comes in to focus. Poe feels the edges of his mouth quirk up in a grin. “Trouble sleeping?”

“I can sleep fine,” Finn tells him, all bravado. “I was just checking on you. That air mattress looks like a death trap.”

“You gonna join me on the death trap anytime soon, buddy, or are we just gonna talk about it?”

“The couch is way more comfortable.” 

“Uhuh.” He leans up on one elbow to watch the shadow slide across the office, narrowly missing Poe’s open suitcase and at least two sharp table edges.

He feels the mattress dip, his own body sliding up and to the side as Finn maneuvers into a mostly prone position. 

“I’m just making sure this thing doesn’t kill you.”

Poe reaches across the empty space between them to drag Finn closer, and he comes without a fuss, tucking his head into the pillow, his breath fanning out across Poe’s face. Finn and Rey’s insistence on separate rooms had been silly when they’d decided on it on the drive, and it’s sounding even sillier now, when the two of them are sharing an air mattress instead of tucked into a warm bed across the hall with Rey. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m not staying.” His lashes flutter against the hand Poe blindly reaches out to pat his cheek, and Poe leans forward to press his lips to the hollow of Finn’s shoulder. 

It only takes a minute for Finn’s breath to even out, and Poe feels himself sliding towards that blissful unconsciousness as well.

He’s in that nebulous space between wakefulness and sleep when he hears the door creak open again, and listens to the sound of Finn’s even breath and the patter of quiet feet against the carpet, waits for the mattress to dip again. 

Rey slips underneath the blanket, her feet freezing against Poe’s calf as she curls into the free space on his other side. 

“I’m just checking on you,” she tells him, and Poe groans. “I’m leaving in a few minutes.” Her actions tell a different story, as she hitches a leg over Poe’s knee and curls her fingers into the hair Finn is breathing against.

“Tomorrow night I’m taking the bed, and you guys can pretend you’re not deliriously in love with me somewhere my back isn’t likely to give out.”

“You have an inflated sense of self worth,” she tells him, her voice a soft whisper against his shoulder.

“Better than an inflated bed.”

She snorts quietly, digging her nose into the side of his neck, and Finn mumbles something in his sleep on Poe’s left.

“Go to sleep, Poe Dameron.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And don’t be a smartass.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.”

She hums, and is out like a light minutes later.

\------

Han gives him a significant look when he stumbles towards the scent of coffee the next morning when he reluctantly untangles himself from the mess of Rey and Finn limbs. “There’s a lecture I’m supposed to give as the uncle, but I’ll spare you if you promise to never say a word about it.”

“There’s a lecture I should give you as Leia’s favorite, but I’ll spare you if you tell me every detail, old man.”

Han looks both startled and amused. “Fuck off, kid.”

Poe grins around the rim of a gag mug he’d presented to Leia years ago as a Christmas gift - the words “Worlds Okayest Senator” emblazoned in bold red across a blue background, enjoying the smell of strong coffee as he watches Han pour a good cup of flavored cream into his own mug. 

“You’re gonna die young putting all that artificial crap in your body,” he warns.

Han shoots him a glare as he pours sugar in as well. “Drinking your coffee black is a sign of sociopathic tendencies, Dameron.”

“I’m just trying to look out for your health.”

“I’m just callin’ a duck a duck.”

Poe groans as he slides onto the bar stool beside Han, his eyes flickering over the headlines of the newspaper spread out on the marble countertop. “I missed you too,” he tells Han as he reaches for the comics. 

Han glowers at Poe, but he reaches out with his free arm to grasp at Poe’s shoulder all the same, and they fall into easy silence, interspersed with the sounds of papers shifting and sips of coffee as the house slowly comes to life around them, the sound of the shower running above them, footsteps drifting across carpeted floors. Chewie drops in with a bakers dozen of doughnuts, which will not be nearly enough, in Poe’s honest opinion, and when the others slowly drift down the stairs rubbing the sleep out of their eyes he is quickly proven right.

He foregoes the pastries entirely, digging into the flesh of a grapefruit as they stuff their faces, until it’s down to one bearclaw, and watches as Finn and Rey eye him carefully. 

“Go for it.”

He returns to his newspaper, and is only mildy surprised when Finn slides a third of the bearclaw under the classifieds.

\------

Chaos would be a moderate term to describe the hustle of mid-morning. Rey and Finn slip into hideous Christmas sweaters Han presents them (”From Chewie. He’s sentimental as hell,” he tells them as he eyes their pleased and knowing grins uncomfortably.) and Poe slips into an apron to help Leia set up the metric fuckton of food she plans to cook that day - Han ribs Chewie as he braids up his beard and ties his hair back into some sort of bun to prepare the massive turkey Poe has the sneaking suspicion he’d shot himself.

Rey and Finn hover just outside the doorway, looking lost with nothing particular to do, and Leia doesn’t waste any time putting them to work - she hands Finn a recipe card for a banana bread recipe Poe has never been allowed to look at, and when he tells Finn as much the man looks like he might cry, and Rey is relegated to chopping what Poe estimates to be about twenty pounds of vegetables. 

Han stays well out of the way. It’s been widely accepted that he could burn water without trying, so he curls up in the living room with an iPad Poe is going to make So. Much. Fun of him for, and sets the radio at a low hum on one of the local Christmas stations.

Poe and Rey sing along to every single song, and Finn hums a baritone to any song he recognizes. It’s the most at home Poe has felt in a long time, and they all feel warm and full and bright as the morning dips into early afternoon. Leia pretends not to get a bit teary-eyed about it. 

Sometime after one, as they are all wiping down countertops and the fruits of their labor simmer and bake, the doorbell rings, and they all steel themselves for battle.


End file.
